


The Black Knight and the Winter Soldier

by Unforgotten



Category: Captain America (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Childhood Friends, Crossover, Identity Reveal, M/M, Reunions, Separations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-06-26 01:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15653292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten
Summary: They said there was a great green fire, burning ever-sweetly in the courtyard at Cair Paravel; and on the dais where the Old King's throne sat, there was a smaller throne beside it, silver and cruel. Every hour the fire burned, more of Narnia fell under the Witch's spell, the boundary of her magic spreading a little farther every day.Enter Bucky Barnes.





	The Black Knight and the Winter Soldier

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aurilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurilly/gifts).



How long he had been in the Wood before something happened, Bucky would never know for sure. It could have been an hour, could have been a day. It could even have been a year. Time moved differently there, if it moved at all. It didn't leave room for much other than the aching sound of the trees as they grew, and the soft green light that filtered down through their leaves.

After a long time, or maybe no time at all, he noticed the Lamb. It lay beside him with eyes darker and deeper than the depths of any of the surrounding pools. As quiet as the Wood was, he definitely should have heard it coming...but somehow, he wasn't surprised he hadn't, any more than he was surprised when it spoke to him.

"How have you come to be here, Adam's son?"

It didn't occur to Bucky not to answer. "There was a door. I went through it."

" _Was_?"

Bucky turned his head and found the door he'd come through, which had been gone since he got here, was back again. It was still open, and beyond it was an empty hallway, just the way it had been before. He'd have expected someone to come looking for him by now. Maybe they hadn't realized he was gone yet; maybe he'd been gone for years and they'd stopped looking a long time ago.

"It was gone before," Bucky said. When he looked back at the Lamb, there was another door, this one only a little ajar, so he could see a crack of light and not much else. "That one's new."

"The second door has only now been called into being. There is a task for you on the other side, should you choose to go through it."

This wasn't a question, but Bucky had the answer anyway: "I want to stay here."

He didn't know enough about sheep to know if they usually growled, but this one seemed to, a rumble of warning so low he might not even have heard it if the trees hadn't stopped growing for a second. "You may not remain here for ever. You must choose, and soon: Your world, or the other."

"You have an agenda, right?" Everyone always did. "Why don't you choose for me?" Part of Bucky was saying he should trust the Lamb, and so the part of him that made the decisions had already decided to do the opposite of what it wanted. All he had to do was find out what that was, exactly.

"I may not." Another low, low rumble, though this one didn't seem to be directed at Bucky himself. "I will offer you three gifts, instead. The first two you will be given no matter your choice; as for the third, it will be yours only if you choose the second door."

"Yeah, I thought you'd want me to go with that one," said Bucky, and ignored his own little rumble, the one that said he had no business mouthing off in this place, or to this creature.

"My first gift is this: You will have your arm returned to you."

In all his time in the Wood, Bucky hadn't remembered it was missing. He looked down at the empty space where it had been just in time to see it materialize from his shoulder. The new arm was metal, the same color as the last one but not anywhere near as heavy; and it felt cleaner, somehow. Instead of a red star on the shoulder, there was an even redder lion. It stood on its hind legs, mouth open in a roar.

"You couldn't have given me back the original?" Bucky asked.

"I could," said the Lamb. "But you may soon have reason to be glad of this one."

Bucky doubted it; but it was a doubt so deeply and surprisingly painful he could not have voiced it to anyone.

The Lamb went on: "My second gift is this: You will never again be helpless in another's thrall. Not in any world, not by any means."

"...You sure that's not the one I can't have unless I do what you want?"

"I am certain," said the Lamb, and this time there seemed to be a knowing smile upon its face. "My third gift, and the greatest, is this: You will know it when you know him."

"I don't get it," Bucky said, and he didn't...yet for a moment after the Lamb said it, joy rose up in him, like he hadn't felt it since...he didn't know when. Since he was a kid, maybe. He didn't know what it meant, and it made no sense, but it was there. Even when it was gone again, he could still feel the place where it had been. "How long do I have to decide?"

"You must choose in a day or an hour or a year. You must choose now."

Bucky looked from one door to the other.

One door left open, a known place. _You will never again be helpless in another's thrall._ No more book, no more words to twist him into what other people wanted him to be. He could go back to Wakanda and...whatever he wanted. He could _find out_ what he wanted, when all he'd been able to figure out between the time he got away and now was what he didn't.

The other door left mostly closed, and the only thing he knew about the other side was that the Lamb wanted him to go there—that and the joy he'd felt, gone already.

"If I go through your door, will I ever be able to get back?"

"If you survive your task, there will be other chances to return to your world," said the Lamb. It rose to its feet with a shake of its head, and walked toward the second door. "The time has come, Bucky Barnes. Follow me into my world, or return to your own."

Bucky looked back at the first door.

"This is stupid," he said to himself, and followed the Lamb through the second door.

***

The second door led to a place you could say was something like the Wood, just as you could say a sparrow is something like an ostrich—which is to say that where a sparrow and an ostrich each have feathers and lay eggs, the Wood and the forest each contained trees and water. But the trees here were wilder and more densely packed together, with all sorts of other plants mixed in with them; and the water, unlike the pools, could not be seen, but only heard, a stream running somewhere nearby. Besides Bucky's own footsteps as he walked beside the Lamb on the trail they'd come out at, there was no other sound.

"Now I will tell you of your task," said the Lamb. "Ten years ago, a Witch came to this land from out of the deep. She burst through the surface on the day the Old King died, and set herself up as Queen with her Knight by her side. She has held this land in bondage ever since. Your task is to free my people of the Witch, in body and in spirit, or die trying."

"...You mind telling me how you expect me to do that?" Bucky couldn't help but notice the Lamb had mentioned dying a couple times now.

"You will have friends and allies. Accept the help offered to you—but take no counsel without first listening to your own."

"I'm really going to need you to be more specific."

"You have all that you need. Farewell, Bucky Barnes."

And with that, the Lamb vanished.

When Bucky looked behind him, at their footprint side-by-side in the soft ground, his own were the size and shape they should have been...but where the Lamb had walked, there were instead the pawprints of a much larger animal. Each one was wider across than Bucky's hand was long, and they ended in the place it had been standing before it had gone.

***

Beyond the next turn in the trail, Bucky came to what looked like some kind of forcefield. Green and shimmering, it rose as high in the air and as far to each side as he could see.

"Would've been nice if you'd warned me about this," he muttered, on the off-chance the Lamb was listening.

He tested it with his new arm, expecting to be thrown back; but it went through with no problem. So did the rest of him. The forcefield didn't feel like anything at all, but when he crossed over, everything changed. Where there had been near-total silence, now there were birdcalls and buzzing insects, the kind of thing he hadn't even realized were missing before. And he hadn't known how sickly sweet the air had smelled on the other side until he was on this one, breathing in big lungfuls of clean air.

In the absence of any kind of plan, he decided to follow the trail until it led to something.

Some forest trails are tricky things, so fickle you may later determine they were not trails at all, or at least not parts of the same one; but although Bucky didn't know it, he was not actually on a trail. He was on a road. But it wasn't exactly paved, and seemed to him small and dubious, so he wasn't surprised not to meet anyone in the next few hours of walking.

At dusk, having seen no more sign of a house or town than he had other people, Bucky found a large tree near the path. Having no knife to sleep with, he searching the ground until he found a good solid stick. Then he sat down on the side of the tree facing away from the trail, so no one coming from either direction would be likely to spot him.

Sleep came quickly, as it always did in the field. Waking came even more quickly several hours later, when something nearby made a snuffing noise.

"It's Human, all right, but it's not Him," someone said. By the time the sentence was finished, Bucky had placed the voice as coming from one of the two shadows that stood a few feet away from him. "Let's get rid of it and have done."

"Don't be a fool. We won't know what it wants if we tear out its throat before it can tell us."

"What if it's a spy? Or a trap? You'll wish you'd done it then."

"And you'll wish you'd been a little quieter. You've already woken this one as it is."

"...It's not moving."

"If you hadn't been so busy yapping, you might have heard its breathing change."

Through all this, Bucky's eyes had been adjusting. Had his night vision not been several times better than a normal person's (thanks to a story much too long to tell here), he would still have seen little other than two shadows. As it was, though there was no moon that night, he could see them well enough to tell they were Wolves.

The Wolf on the right was smaller than the one on the left, and now it said, sullenly, "It sounds the same as before to _me_."

"I'm awake," Bucky said, moving into a crouch, with his metal hand positioned so it could easily come up to block his throat, and with his right hand gripping his stick. "What do you want?"

The smaller Wolf opened its mouth, but the bigger one snapped at it before it could speak. There was a short scuffle. At the end of it, the smaller Wolf hung back, examining the ground as if that was what had caught its attention in the first place. As for the bigger Wolf, it said, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

Bucky had not even considered lying to the Lamb; he didn't even think about telling the Wolves the truth. "No reason," he said. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You lie," said the smaller Wolf.

"It doesn't smell like one of Hers," said the larger Wolf, as much to itself as to either of them. "And it almost...don't move, Human. And as for you, stay where you are."

The smaller Wolf stayed while the bigger Wolf moved, sliding a little closer to Bucky, moving several steps to his left, eyes on him the entire time. Bucky didn't move, except to brace himself for a charge.

"There's a mark on your shoulder. I can't make it out. Is it a bear?" (This was a genuine question; for Wolves, despite their excellent nighttime vision, do not see color as well as Bucky, nor even as well as you or I.)

"It's a lion."

The Wolf's head came up, and the fur on its back went down. Now it said, in a much different voice than it had used before, "A _Lion_."

"It doesn't mean anything," said the smaller Wolf.

"It means everything, sister. For all of us." The larger Wolf's tail began to move back and forth, not exactly the way a dog's would have, but close enough for Bucky to figure it was about the same idea. "You've come from Aslan, haven't you?"

Bucky managed not to ask who they meant, partly because they seemed less likely to try to eat him now...but at least as much because the name seemed to touch something in him, just as the Lamb's third gift had. It was as if there was something about it he should have remembered, a reason behind the joy that rose in him upon hearing it.

"Yeah, sure," he said. "We'll go with that."

***

The bigger Wolf's name was Due, and the smaller was Ylfa. Due's coat was a very dark gray, nearly black, while Ylfa's was a shade or two lighter. They were indeed sisters, Ylfa a product of the litter following Due's. They lay near Bucky until the dawn, being under the impression he, like other Men, would not be able to see well enough in the dark to follow them properly in the nighttime. (Bucky didn't enlighten them. He figured he could live with being underestimated.) Due positioned herself between Bucky and Ylfa, for reasons that would have been clear to anyone who'd even once heard her sister snarl. (And she snarled a great deal during the night, for nothing Due said could convince her Bucky wasn't an enemy.)

As for Bucky himself, he didn't care about trying to convince anyone of anything. He used the time to sleep, instead. Lightly enough so that he came awake every time either of the Wolves did anything, but well enough that he was decently rested in the morning.

As the sky began to lighten, Due stood and stretched. "We must be off," she said, and, once Bucky and Ylfa were also standing, she ducked into the shadows, headed away from the trail. Ylfa followed on her heels, Bucky behind both of them.

For the first little while, the Wolves kept looking back, as if expecting him to fall behind. He didn't, and they soon found a steady pace together, the kind where it's easy enough to talk as long as you take a breath in the middle of longer sentences.

It was then Bucky finally asked, not where they were going (for the answer wouldn't have meant anything to him anyway), but whether they knew anything about a Witch.

"What do _you_ know of the Witch?" Ylfa said, turning as if to round on him, only for Due to block her with her shoulder. This took barely a moment to happen, so there was only the merest stumble in their otherwise smooth gaits.

"Save your fight for the battle to come. Not for allies," said Due. Then, to Bucky: "My sister becomes...distraught at any mention of the Witch; and moreso at any mention of her Knight."

The Lamb had said something about that, too. It wasn't so much that Bucky hadn't been listening, as that he hadn't had the context to follow what it had said. "What Knight?"

"What do you know of the Witch?" Due asked. "I will tell you all, but it would be good to know where our knowledge is shared, and where it departs."

"Not much. She came ten years ago and took over."

"Then I will begin at the beginning."

***

Many years ago, many Talking Wolves had worked for another Witch. When she was defeated, the remaining Wolves had departed Narnia, the innocent along with the guilty. None now recalled if they had chosen their exile or if Aslan himself had demanded it; but all Wolves knew they could not return until Narnia was once again in its hour of need. For more than a thousand years, they had lived among strangers in lands not their own, waiting for and dreading the day the hour would come again.

Some nine years ago, the word had come: A new Witch had taken Narnia. Where the last had brought eternal winter, this one had brought forgetting, and obedience—for any creature that came too close to her seat in Cair Paravel forgot who and what they had been. Became not a Talking Animal, but a beast. Those the Witch wanted for some unknown purpose remained in the sphere of her power; the others fled back into the forest, where they would fight (or even feast on) their families and friends if they should stumble upon them.

They said there was a great green fire, burning ever-sweetly in the courtyard at Cair Paravel; and on the dais where the Old King's throne sat, there was a smaller throne beside it, silver and cruel. Every hour the fire burned, more of Narnia fell under the Witch's spell, the boundary of her magic spreading a little farther every day.

"We Wolves cannot cross the boundary any more than other creatures, lest we too become less than we are," said Due. "But we can smell its increasing sweetness, to know when it's like to be on the move; and we can run, all day and all night. Our duty is to track, to warn, to rescue, to fly; that none will be caught unaware when the boundary passes over their home."

Ylfa, who had been quiet for longer than expected, now said, "Tell him of the Black Knight. If you're going to tell him the rest, tell him about _Him_."

"Yes. Every few days, the Knight rides out into this part of Narnia not yet held by his mistress. He comes on his great black horse, and with his terrible sword, and kills whoever he finds."

"He's worse than she is," cried Ylfa, and the anger in her voice was mixed with grief. "She lets them live, at least, but _he_ kills them all. Down to the cubs at suck—there's no mercy in him."

Bucky probably would have had an opinion about whether that was worse or not, but he'd stopped listening. Something had been bugging him the whole way through the Wolves' story, every time they said the name of the country they were in. And now, sometime in the last few moments, it had finally come out into the open. It had slammed into him, or he'd slammed into it, and it didn't seem to matter if he'd fallen or if he'd jumped, because either way he'd have had the wind knocked out of him when he hit the ground.

Aslan. Cair Paravel. Talking Animals. Narnia.

Of all the things Bucky had remembered since he ran, none of them had truly been a surprise. He'd always known when there was something there, something he'd eventually get to if he picked at it long enough or ignored it long enough or just plain went looking for the answer. Nothing had been like this, hidden until it wasn't, until it came to him all at once. No blank spaces, no missing pieces. Two years since he'd run, and he'd never had any idea this stuff was there. And now he had all of it.

"Narnia," he said. "You're telling me we're in _Narnia_."

***

When he'd been fourteen, Bucky spent a winter Away.

It was all thanks to a door he spotted while passing by a dark alley—a door that was cracked open, with sunlight spilling through it. He opened it to find endless green hills; he walked through it and shed his coat and boots minutes later, for while it was the darkest part of February in Brooklyn, it was summer there.

A few minutes later, before he'd even gotten around to trying to find his way back, he literally ran into a boy his own age.

"Say," Prince Rilian (as Bucky would learn when they got around to introductions a while later) said, while brushing himself off. "I haven't seen you before. Are you any more interesting than the rest of the people here at court?"

Bucky didn't know who or what Rilian was talking about, but he figured the answer to a question like that, asked by someone who looked this desperate not to be bored, had to be, "Yeah."

"Excellent! Can you ride?"

"Ride what?"

By the end of the first afternoon, Rilian had figured out that Bucky could not ride a horse, use a sword, or shoot a bow, and vowed to teach him all three.

"None of it's anything you should shame yourself for," he said, looking much more embarrassed than Bucky felt (mostly he was excited about swords and bows and arrows...but not nearly as much about the horses). "I forget, sometimes, that everyone hasn't had the same training I have since earliest childhood."

"It's okay."

"I'm sure there's something children learn here in Archenland that I remain altogether ignorant of. I look forward to learning whatever it may be."

"I'm not from here." Bucky felt a little as if he should have said something before. He'd never heard of any of the places Rilian had mentioned in passing—Archenland (where they were, Rilian having been to sent to King Lorn's court for a summer to begin developing the good relations he would want when he was king), Narnia, Calormen, the Lone Islands—and he'd grown more and more certain over the course of the afternoon that he wasn't supposed to be there at all.

Far from being put out, Rilian said, "Are you from Narnia as well? In that case, I truly am remiss not to have recognized you."

"I'm from Brooklyn." At Rilian's blank look, Bucky added, "It's part of New York City." When this didn't ring any bells, either, he said, "I could show you."

They went back to the hill where they'd met, Rilian leading because to Bucky every hill looked like every other hill and every tree looked like every other tree. As Bucky followed, he thought about everything he could show Rilian in the city. He was willing to bet Rilian had never been on the subway. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd never seen a car. When they got there, they found Bucky's coat and boots—but no matter how or where they looked, there was no door.

The more they looked, the more frustrated Bucky got, but the more thoughtful Rilian became.

"You say you came through a door, yet there is no door here."

"I didn't _say_ I came through a door, I said there _was_ one."

"Be calm, my friend. I do not doubt you. It's only—do you suppose you've come here from another world?"

That was exactly what Bucky had begun to suppose, though he hadn't really managed to put it into words for himself yet. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"Well, you shall reside with me until you must go back," said Rilian.

Bucky wasn't sure how well this would go over with the adults, but Rilian didn't seem to be concerned about it; instead, he spent the whole way back grilling Bucky about his world. (He seemed intrigued by Bucky's description of cars, but couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the idea of the subway.)

In the end, Rilian turned out to be right; no one gave him any trouble about Bucky being there. Instead, he just told them Bucky was to stay with him for the duration, and everyone (mostly servants) said, "Of course, Your Highness," like it wasn't weird at all. Even the King of Archenland only asked a couple of questions.

The next day, Rilian started making good on the vow he'd made earlier. He did his sword practice first, with his instructor—Bucky watched, and was more than a little mesmerized by the way they moved, how fast and how smoothly—and then he and Bucky went at it with wooden swords. Bucky ended day one of sword practice with bruises in places he hadn't known he even had, but soon began to improve. He never got as good as Rilian, and suspected he didn't deserve anywhere near as much praise as Rilian gave him, but it was a lot of fun.

It wasn't until several days after he got there that Rilian took Bucky with him to archery practice. Bucky was much worse with the longbow than he'd initially been at the sword, but came to find he was a natural with the crossbow. He'd soon surpassed not only Rilian, but everyone else who contested him (which was just about everyone, like he was some sort of novelty).

Eventually Rilian did get him on a horse, and eventually Bucky stopped falling off (mostly).

At nights, while Bucky groaned over his many aches and bruises, Rilian told him stories about Narnia, the land he'd come from and was someday going to be King of. He told Bucky about Talking Animals, and Giants, and Centaurs, and Nyads and Dryads and Mermaids. Bucky was never sure how much of this to believe, especially when they went up in one of the towers so Rilian could point out the various stars and tell Bucky how he was related to this one or that other one.

Rilian had told him of the Great Lion, Aslan, and the times his own father had met him. It sounded as crazy as the rest, but gave Bucky a funny feeling in his chest. It was the kind of thing he'd have liked to believe, and the kind of thing that seemed a lot more possible, in this world he'd found through the door. The more unbelievable things Rilian expected him to believe, the more Bucky was willing to try, just so he could listen to Rilian go on about them for a while longer.

One night, in one of those towers, Bucky found he couldn't stop looking at Rilian's face, in the light of the moon and of the stars (which are both much closer to that world than our moon and stars are to ours). More and more, he'd found he couldn't stop looking, and somehow it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss him.

It was a brief kiss, and an innocent one. When it ended, Rilian smiled at him, as bright as the stars themselves. What they talked about after that, Bucky would never remember.

The next day, the packing began for Rilian's return to Narnia. Both Bucky and Rilian were kept quite busy helping (for unlike in our world, Princes of Narnia are expected to help pack their own belongings). When they broke for lunch, Bucky realized he'd left his crossbow, which had been a gift to him from Rilian, with the other bows and things in the armory.

He left Rilian to go get it. When he got to the armory, he found a door where no door had been any of the other times he'd been there. This one led out into an alley, which looked just like the one he'd come through months before. He stepped through, just to make sure, and walked to the end of it. One look out at the street was all it took to be sure that he was back in Brooklyn.

He turned back to where the door had been, only to find it was gone. There was nothing for it but to go home. On the way, he tried to think of an excuse for why he'd been gone so long that wouldn't make his folks want to kill him; but when he got there, his mom stopped him within two sentences to say he wasn't late, but she'd like to know what he'd done with his coat. It turned out no time had passed in Brooklyn at all; he'd been gone for an entire summer, but he'd come back in February, which he'd probably have known if he hadn't been too busy feeling sick about Rilian to notice he was shivering.

If Bucky had been a year or two older, he might have convinced himself he'd imagined the whole thing. As it was, he knew he hadn't—but he kept it to himself anyway. He did think about telling Steve, but Steve had been sick, and testy about being sick, since Christmas; he'd have either gotten pissed he'd missed it or pissed Bucky was pulling his leg, and either way Bucky didn't want to deal with it. Not while he still had to stop to take a look at every alley he passed, just to see if he could find that door again; not while he still went to sleep missing the sound of Rilian's breathing on the other side of the room.

By the time he was done looking for doors where no door should be, his visit to that other world felt almost like something that had happened to someone else. Still not something he'd made up, still not something he doubted—but not something he thought about all that often, either. Not when there were plenty of things going on in his own world for him to worry about. Certainly not by the time there was a war being fought over in Europe.

By the time he went through sniper training in the Army, Archenland was far enough behind him that Bucky never thought to connect it to how good he'd been with a crossbow, way back when. By the time he looked through the scope of his rifle during his first mission as the Soldier, he couldn't have thought about it if he'd tried.

***

Between one moment and the next, Bucky had remembered everything that had happened that summer. And on the heels of that remembering came the knowledge that Rilian was dead. He had to be. He'd have been ninety years old when the Witch came, give or take. _If_ he'd even still been alive by then. If it hadn't been Rilian's son the Wolves meant, when they talked about the Old King, the one the Lamb had said was dead.

Seventy years was more than enough time for Rilian to have died of natural causes, or even in one of the battles he'd always spoken of riding into, someday, back when Bucky had never been in a battle either and had been almost as excited to hear about as Rilian had been to talk about. So there was room for doubt. Bucky saw it, even then: Room for doubt. He just didn't care, because the other thing in him was certainty, as new as memory, and as strong.

This was another of those things that takes much longer to tell than it does to happen. Within the space of seconds, Bucky had remembered Rilian, and decided what to do about it. If he'd been drifting along for the last couple years with no aim except keeping his head down, now he knew exactly what he wanted, and had a pretty good idea of how to get it.

"Is he having a fit?" Ylfa asked (which was not as impertinent a question as it might seem, for Bucky had gone shock-still, and there was a terrible expression upon his face).

"Brother," said Due, moving forward and nudging Bucky's hand with her nose, "are you unwell?"

"I'm fine," said Bucky. "But I have a question."

"Then we will answer it."

"This Knight you're talking about—did he kill the Old King? Or was that the Witch?"

"It was him," Ylfa said, bristling. "I'm sure it was. Didn't I tell you he's her executioner?"

Softly and carefully, Due said, "We can't know what happened, for none who were at Cair Paravel when the Witch came have ever come to tell the tale. But we've never seen the Witch's magic kill. It seems more likely than not."

"Okay," said Bucky, and to Ylfa: "Do you want to help me kill him?"

She didn't have to ask who he meant. "Oh, yes."

***

Before, Bucky had followed the Wolves more or less passively—not caring all that much about where they were going, but keeping an eye out for escape routes in care he needed one. The Lamb's task had been pretty far from the front of his mind the whole time. It wasn't really a priority now, either, except that what the Lamb had wanted him to do would probably be a side effect of killing the Knight. First the Knight, then the Witch. A win-win for everybody.

Bucky asked the Wolves more questions. Where they were going, what the plan was. The answer turned out to be that they were going to join up with other Talking Animals, and decide the rest from there.

After a while, Due stopped long enough to get the word out to a Robin and several Sparrows. They were nearly twice the size of any bird Bucky had ever seen up close, and listened carefully from a low branch. When the conversation was finished, they flew off in an explosion of wings, the Robin to the north and the Sparrows to the south and west.

"Now what?" Bucky asked.

"Now, we head for the meeting place—a clearing some hours from here (for it's close to the center of what remains of Narnia, while we are still too near to the edge). Let us run."

And so the Wolves led the way, and Bucky followed. This time, there was little talking, as all three saved their breath for the brisker pace.

When they reached the clearing, there were already a number of other Animals there. A hundred Birds of various kinds crowded the trees, which themselves seemed to move sometimes out of the corner of Bucky's eye. (He remembered the tales Rilian had told him, of trees who danced and laughed and argued, and wondered.) In the grass, Rabbits sat by Foxes, a Leopard bathed a Deer with its tongue, and a Horse stood right next to a game of tag some youngsters were playing.

"They're here," someone said.

"Do you see it?" said someone else.

"I do," said a third.

"And I," said another.

Every single one of the Animals was looking straight at Bucky. The ones on his left were the ones nodding and agreeing that they could see; the ones on his right were all trying to get to his left, so that they could see, too. Eventually some of them got the idea to get to his left from his right; and that was how Bucky ended up surrounded by everything from Moose to Moles.

A bold young Squirrel jumped from a low branch to Bucky's left shoulder, then skidded down his arm, his claws skittering for purchase and finding none. He'd have landed on someone's face if Bucky hadn't managed to grab him in mid-air, more gently than he'd ever grasped anything living with that hand before.

In the end, the Squirrel sat in Bucky's upturned palm, and said, "I see it, too!" Then, further emboldened by the scattered laughter from the crowd: "Are you really from Aslan?"

"I guess so," Bucky said. Rilian had said Aslan was a Lion, but he was beginning to wonder about that Lamb.

"Then why hasn't my brother come home yet?" said someone.

"Oh, come now, these things take time. Even for Aslan."

"The last time I saw my sister, she fled from me like a...like a beast. _Bother_ your time, that's what I say!"

This went on in a similar vein for a number of minutes, until it was hard to hear what any one person was saying, and until all the Animals were too busy yelling at each other to pay much attention to what Bucky was doing.

"Perhaps you should say something to them," Due said eventually, when Bucky and the two Wolves had been standing to the side for a while.

"Like what?"

"The ones Aslan sends always give rousing speeches, in the old tales."

"Speeches aren't my thing."

"Besides, they're not wrong," Ylfa said. She'd been surprisingly quiet since they arrived at the clearing, but now her voice was low and aching. "There's none of us who haven't lost someone, to death or worse."

"Sister," said Due, and it was hard to tell if it was supposed to be a warning or not.

"That's the only thing I'm sometimes glad of, you know. That they died, instead of becoming...like that. What they're saying."

These were words Ylfa would come to regret as much as anyone in Narnia has ever regretted their words...but they also served to tell Bucky something he hadn't quite gotten around to wondering before.

"He killed your family, didn't he?"

But Ylfa, who'd been so eager to bring it up, turned her head away.

"Our mother, our father, our sibs," said Due softly. "It happened while we were on patrol. When we returned, it was to the cries of our smallest brother. He'd wandered away from the cave to cause mischief, and returned minutes after the Knight left. He stays with another pack now."

Ylfa found her voice: "He cries every time we leave him—howls to make you weep."

"He killed someone I cared about, too." Until now, Bucky hadn't wondered anything about how Rilian had died—whether it had been quick, or slow. Whether he'd had to see anyone he loved die in front of him. Whether he'd had time to pick up his sword and fight, the way he'd have wanted to, or if he'd been mowed down from behind before he even got the chance.

Bucky hadn't wondered before, but he did now.

After an hour or so, the yelling had become more of a murmur. Every five or ten minutes, a few more Animals would show up, and come to take a look at Bucky's arm. If he'd been in a better mood, he'd have made a crack about how he ought to sell tickets; but he wasn't. No one here would have gotten the joke anyway, and he wasn't in the mood for explaining. He'd explained that kind of stuff so often to Rilian, and the place he'd done it from was red and raw.

***

"Are you hungry?" Due asked after a while, probably because Bucky's stomach had just growled. "You Men eat every day, do you not?" (This was an honest question, for Wolves eat a feast every few days, and go without in-between.)

"I could eat something," Bucky agreed.

"We could catch you a rabbit."

"You will not!" said the nearest Rabbit, and then everyone else had to chime in.

In the end, lunch ended up being berries, roots, and nuts, which was fine by Bucky; he'd gone on a hunt or two when he was in Archenland, and field-dressing what he'd shot was all it had taken for him to decide he preferred to get his meat from the butcher.

He'd just finished eating when a group of Wolves came into the clearing, five or six adults herding along four or five pups. One of these, half again the size of the others, glimpsed Ylfa and Due and came running. Their reunion was a joyful, painful thing, and once the pup had settled by his sisters' feet, someone said:

"Is that everyone?"

"I think so," said someone else.

"Anyone who's not here by now isn't coming, or doesn't deserve to."

"Well, _that's_ certainly an opinion, coming from someone who's never been more than three miles from his own den!"

The bickering now was more good-natured than before, for everyone, including Bucky, could feel it: Something was going to happen here, or be decided; something was about to change.

***

"Well. now we've got to come up with a plan."

" _I_ say we get rid of the Witch."

"And how do you suggest we do that? It's not as if we can walk up to her front door!"

"Or her back door, for that matter."

Bucky was pretty sure the Lamb's second gift meant he actually could—but it wasn't the Witch he was interested in right then, so he kept this to himself.

Eventually, they got to the same place he was at:

"It's the Knight who's the worse of the two, anyway."

"Worse than _Her_? Bah!"

"But he is! Her, you can avoid. He's the one who comes out, he's the one who kills everyone he comes across."

"It'd be a start, anyway, getting rid of him."

"We've tried before, and it's always gone sour, hasn't it? Why, my cousins, rest their souls—"

Eventually, there came a kind of lull, the sort most lengthy discussions contain at various points. Bucky had been waiting for this one, and into it, he said, "I could kill the Knight."

Of this, he was absolutely certain. He hadn't been much good with a sword the last time he was in this world, but that had been before Zola's table, before he'd fallen from the train, before everything that had made him into what he was now.

For their part, none of the Animals piped up with immediate reservations.

"I could use a little help, though," Bucky added, because for some missions you needed to go solo, but for most of them you needed a team.

The rest of that meeting was about when and where they would find the Knight, and what the most promising strategy would be, and above all who would be allowed to come.

***

Two days after the meeting in the clearing, word passed from a Hare to a Fox to a Sparrow, then along other wings until, finally, it reached the Wolves. While most of the other Animals had gone back to their homes, both Due and Ylfa had stayed with Bucky, as well as the others they'd chosen to go with them.

"We must be on the move," said Due. "The Knight passed through the boundary several hours ago. There's no telling when he'll turn back."

"Good timing," said Bucky, who'd been examining the second armory the Animals had brought him to. He'd been under the impression that Narnia was all hills and trees, but it turned out there were a few towns, too. The people who'd lived in them had long since gone and left caches of weapons behind. Most of the stuff in the first one had been rotten or rusted due to a hole in the roof, but the weapons in this second one looked a lot better. Bucky had already picked out and sharpened a sword, which now hung from his waist; he'd been looking at crossbows for a good ten minutes, but now chose one of the top three at random and slung it across his back.

He followed the Wolves out of the town, and they were shortly met by the others they'd chosen for the core group: a Panther, a Leopard, and several Rabbits. They made good time, but it still took the better part of several hours for them to reach the place they'd agreed on. (None of the Animals had wanted to be too close to the barrier; they could not be certain of the methods the Knight used to track down his victims, and if they wanted to intercept him then it would be better if he didn't come for them first.)

It took a few minutes for them to agree on which bend of the road they would wait at—for the Rabbits' view was different from the Cats' view was different from Bucky and the Wolves' view. But eventually they came to an agreement, and settled in place—Bucky and the Cats in the trees, the Wolves and Rabbits in the bushes.

Once they'd positioned themselves, there was nothing left but to wait. Bucky was good at hiding, at waiting; and what had been programmed into him by men had been programmed into the Animals by instinct. The Cats and the Rabbits were the stillest, but even the Wolves were able to lie quietly, fading into their surroundings.

After a few hours came a whisper of wings, a Wren's voice in Bucky's ear: "He comes. He's no more than a mile away. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry; his horse walks."

That gave them a few minutes. "Does everyone remember what you're supposed to do?" Bucky asked.

They all said they did. All there was left after that was to wait for a few more tense minutes, every muscle tensed and ready to move.

A few minutes after that, the Animals and Bucky heard hoofbeats. Faster than a walk now; maybe the Knight was in a hurry to get back, after all. Or maybe he was just annoyed that he hadn't found anyone to run through today. He came into view beyond the bend, in all-black armor on an all-black horse.

When he was a few feet away from passing underneath Bucky's tree, the Rabbits darted out in front of the horse, fast-moving shadows meant to startle, to frighten—not the Knight himself, but his horse. It didn't rear, as Bucky and the Animals had hoped it might—but it did shy, prancing to one side and then to the other.

"Whoa," said the Knight, and for a moment it seemed as if the horse might calm at the familiar voice—but then Ylfa slunk from the bushes, snapping at its heels. The horse, wild-eyed, would almost certainly have fled then—except that Due had also emerged from the forest, so that there was one Wolf in front of the horse, and another behind.

The horse, unwilling now to be soothed, began to fight its rider. The Knight, though, stayed in his seat, even as his mount began to buck beneath him, as determined to have Knight off as the Knight was to stay on.

"Now," Bucky said, and that was when he leapt from his place in the branches. He hit the Knight just as he'd meant to, toppling him to the ground. Bucky landed right beside him.

As soon as the Knight was down, Ylfa moved. The horse, who now had both his head and the open road, took both, leaving nothing but dust behind him.

The Knight got to his feet. He reached for his sword. By the time he had it out, Bucky was there to meet him with his own sword drawn.

It had been a lifetime since Bucky last fought with a sword, but his lessons came roaring back to him. How to block, how to parry, how to lash out at his opponent's legs, all newly informed by a speed and strength he hadn't had back then. He'd had a wooden shield in most of the lessons, but now he had his arm, and years' practice in using it.

Most sword fights are relatively short. This one was no exception; it lasted less than ninety seconds. But time seemed to slow down for Bucky, during. For a few seconds here and there, it seemed more like a dance than a fight. It felt like he knew all the steps: When the Knight would advance, and when he would retreat; when he would be cautious, and when he would stab out at Bucky in a reckless gambit.

It was almost like a dance, and that was why it went on for ninety seconds instead of twenty. It was like Bucky had done this before, been here before, knew exactly how it was going to end. That feeling was maybe the only thing that could have kept him from overwhelming the Knight immediately with his speed and strength—not the promise of knowledge, but the hint of it, itching at him, and he couldn't put his finger on it even though he knew he should be able to, even though he _knew this_.

They danced, and it might have gone on for even longer—except that then, a tree root rose from the ground, just as the Knight was pressing forward to deal Bucky another bone-shaking blow.

The Knight tripped and fell hard to the dirt of the road, his sword clattering out of arms' reach.

Bucky had planned for this, before. He knew exactly what he was going to do. But it had been like a dance, and this particular dance had always ended in one specific way.

Looming over the Knight, Bucky meant to drive his sword through the Knight's throat. It should have been the easy thing, the natural thing. He'd spent so many years as a killer; it should have come to him easier than anything else.

But the dance had brought out something deeper, something older. The Knight was the first person he'd fought with a sword since the last time he'd held one. The lessons he'd learned there had stayed with him, even when he'd thought he'd forgotten.

And so Bucky pressed the tip of his sword to the Knight's throat, and said, "Yield."

***

Underneath his armor, which he'd removed with Bucky's crossbow pointed at him, the Knight seemed smaller, but no less dangerous. Maybe he would have, if he hadn't spent the whole trip to the nearest cave looking closely at all of them, memorizing their faces and voices so he would know to kill them the next time he met them. Bucky knew the look. He'd worn it himself, though it had been another thing he'd forgotten over and over until now.

On the way to a nearby empty cave, the Animals (chiefly the Rabbits, who wouldn't be able to chase down the Knight if he made a run for it, and so didn't have to keep the close eye on him that the Cats and Wolves did) muttered among themselves:

"I thought the idea was to kill him?"

"It was, but we'll get more off him if we question him first, won't we?"

"I'm sure _I_ don't know."

"It just doesn't seem sporting—or, well, quite right. Seems like the kind of thing Aslan mightn't like, killing a prisoner after we've questioned him."

"Aslan wouldn't like the sort of thing the Knight's done, either."

To this, Ylfa, walking on Bucky's right, huffed, and might have said something—but they'd reached the cave, and whatever it would have been was lost in ushering the Knight inside.

***

"Where did you go today?" Bucky asked, about twenty minutes later. The Knight was sitting against the cave's back wall. Between him and the door were gathered a collection of Animals—not only the ones who'd come with Bucky to intercept the Knight, but everyone else who'd been in the area, waiting to be needed or to hear something.

The Knight gave no more answer than he had the other times Bucky had asked him. He just kept glaring, planning all their deaths inside his head.

In fact, he didn't speak at all until Bucky said, "Tell us about the Witch."

"The what?" The Knight's face twisted up as if in confusion.

"Your mistress," called someone from the crowd.

"My lady is no _witch_ ," said the Knight. "She is no _hag_. She is beauty and grace itself. The people of this land should tremble in joy to be ruled by such as she."

("Oh, we're trembling all right," someone muttered, but the Knight went on—)

"And once the thing was done, they should have come to the great castle by the sea, to pledge their allegiance—but they flew, every one of them, leaving my lady to stand alone against the evil here."

The animals were murmuring now, so loudly it was kind of surprising any of them could even hear what the Knight was saying, or what they were saying to each other.

"It runs in the rivers, and through the trees, and through nearly every beast—yes, even those who've gathered behind you. They'll tear me apart on your word, my friend, but they'll turn on you soon after. You may think they speak like Men, but in fact they're demons, created by some dark magic of which I know not, and dare not speculate."

"Uh-huh," said Bucky. It was clear to him the Knight believed what he was saying—clear to him, as well, that the murmuring behind him was growing angry, and that the Animals could make a pretty good mob if they put their minds to it. "That's what she told you?"

"It is the truth. If you had not fallen under their spell yourself, you would know it as such. The Men who once resided here knew it. It's why they flew. They had not the faith in my lady they should have, to hold up her light in the darkness, that all good men may shelter beneath it."

"Okay," said Bucky, and to Due: "Tell everyone to calm down, would you? He's talking. That's got to be good for us."

Due turned and began to speak in a low murmur to the nearest Badger. Bucky turned back to the Knight, who had not even paused in his speech:

"When my lady's light has illuminated all of this land, I will find them—these cowards who did what was easy instead of what was right. They'll fall beneath the light of my own sword, down to the child that was born yesterday."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"Does it seem fair that my lady struggles so to protect this land, and receives only silence for her efforts? Does it seem fair that the demons follow the boundaries of her good magic every day, looking for weakness, for a place to enter? They're relentless, cold-hearted—in fact they have no heart at all. The place where it should be in their chests is filled only with a blackness, which they would smear on my lady's person before they would open her throat (as is their ultimate intention; how could it be anything else, when the darkness so hates the light)? I suspect your own heart is filled with the same, sir, else you'd stand side by side with me to fight our way through these beasts. If we should fail, and die, at least we would have died in the pursuit of something good!"

He went on in this vein for a while. No matter what Bucky asked him, it turned into another rant about how perfect the Witch was, and how evil everyone else was, and how Bucky should think about joining him.

Then, around the time the light inside the cave began to grow darker in response to the fading light outside, the Knight fell silent for a few minutes, refusing to answer Bucky no matter what he asked or how he asked it. Over the course of those minutes, he grew paler and paler, righteous anger turning to fear on his face.

"It's coming," he said. "It's coming upon me now. You should kill me, if you value your life."

"Well, that's a new one," Bucky said.

"You do not understand. You do not know how I came to serve my lady, or of what she did for me."

"So tell me."

"I remember not who I was or what land I hailed from before our meeting. All I know of myself before I met my lady is this: that a curse was laid upon me by some other. It is a terrible, wicked thing. Once, it had me for every dark hour of every night. Through her efforts I came to suffer it for only an hour every night; and since we've come to this land, it's come on me more rarely. I've only fallen beneath it once in the last year—but I can feel it rising in me now. I have no doubt it's been called up by my proximity to the demon horde who stand whispering behind you. I go out clad in my armor to keep it out; I speak to no one outside of my lady's light, lest it be drawn out of my depths. Yet you have forced me out of my armor, and caused me to beg you to see reason for these last few hours. But you've listened with closed ears, and now it comes upon me. You must slay me. With your crossbow or with a sword. It matters not, except that it must be soon."

"...What kind of curse?" Bucky asked, when the Knight finally seemed to be out of breath.

"I will change into a great serpent, and devour you all. No man or beast may stand before me when I am in the throes of it; no blade will pierce my hide. My mouth will be filled with poison, enough to drop you where you stand. My lady would have me bound to my chair for the safety of all around me, but we're too far from it now, and my time is too close—you must slay me now, else die yourself shortly."

"Uh-huh," Bucky said, and behind him the Narnians' voices had risen again, into a hum that mostly seemed to think they should go ahead and do what the Knight wanted.

"It's not like anyone would _lie_ about turning into a serpent," said someone, a sentiment that was agreed with from about thirty different throats.

"Why would you warn us? You could have just turned into a snake and had us all for a snack," Bucky asked.

"I would hesitate to tell you such, but you'll discover it yourself if you think on it for more than a moment," said the Knight, as talkative as ever. "I fear for my lady's safety; for it was always my binding to the silver chair that kept my hour short. If I should succumb to it in this place—first I'll slay all of you, and then I'll slither on my belly toward where my lady must even now be fretting over me. She'll expect me to have been thrown from my horse, to perhaps be lying somewhere, injured—but she won't expect this, any more than I did myself. I fear not to tell you this, for like all cowards you value your own life more than the foul cause you espouse—you'll slay me rather than give up your lives in the hope of my lady's death."

"Got that right!" called someone.

But something in what the Knight had said was hitting Bucky wrong. Things did, sometimes, and he couldn't always figure out why, what had happened to set him off. And even when he did know, he usually didn't figure it out until hours or days later, when he was looking back. So it was that his hands were now sweaty on the grip of his crossbow, and his breathing was coming quicker than it should have, even though he wasn't afraid of snakes, or curses, or guys who _really_ liked the sound of their own voices.

"Shut up," he said, more harshly than he'd yet said anything to the Knight.

He aimed an arrow at the Knight's heart, and waited for something to happen.

Over the next few minutes, the Knight's breathing grew harsher and harsher, even as he grew yet paler, and beaded sweat stood out on his face. He began to murmur to himself, so low and jumbled that Bucky couldn't tell what he was saying. He tried to stand, and fell down, favoring the leg that had been caught in a root at the end of their fight, even though it hadn't really seemed to bother him before now.

Then he began to moan.

"No," the Knight said. "Oh, no, no. How long as it been since last I was myself? And what is this dark place? I had thought the other was a torment, but this—am I not to be permitted to see what I have wrought? Am I merely to imagine my sins now? I am not certain my imaginings _could_ be any worse than what I have seen with my own eyes...oh, but my eyes are adjusting to the light. Who are you, who stands so near? Are you a friend or a foe? A foe, I'd imagine, from that which you have aimed at my heart...except there's something in your demeanor that suggests otherwise."

"No, there isn't," Bucky said, although he was starting to have a feeling—like he'd been here before, except standing in a different place.

"It is as you say," said the Knight, trying to rise to his feet again, and once again wincing as he went back down. "I do not know how I have come to be here, instead of bound once more to that accursed chair, but know this: I will not go back. If you have pursued me on her word, I will slay a score of your men before you bring me down. By the Lion, I swear I will." (At this, a hum rose up from the crowd behind Bucky, but neither he nor the Knight paid it any attention.) "Help me, leave me, fall upon me—but decide."

"Five minutes ago, you were threatening to turn into a giant snake," said Bucky.

"A serpent? No. I am cursed, but not in that way. I am under her spell, day and night. Once, I came back to myself for an hour every night...but since we returned to the surface, I have come back to myself on fewer and fewer nights. I even feared that the last time would be the last, but now I know it was not...for it is this time that is my last chance. The door is nearly closed now. If I should pass through it even once more, I will be lost for ever. I will not go back...but what is that emblem I see on your shoulder?"

"It's a Lion," Bucky said.

"It is as I thought. I do not remember what I have done to you...something terrible, I have no doubt—"

"You killed my friend," Bucky said. "But I'm starting to think it wasn't your fault."

"—but if the name of Aslan" (the hum turned to a roar) "means anything to you, then on that name do I command you: To provide me aid and arms, that we may take back Cair Paravel, and with it, all of Narnia."

"Now, why would you want to do that? Wouldn't it be better for you to run away, lay low for a while? That's what I would do, if someone had me under a curse."

"If I were any other man, perhaps that is what I would do (though I hope I would have a greater courage than that even if it were so)," said the Knight, and although he still sat on the ground, something in his face seemed to change again, to become more than it had been before. "But I am not any other man. There is a reason the Witch took me, and not another: She knew her magics would not be able to take hold in this land without me by her side. For I am Prince Rilian, son of Caspian X, and the Witch could not have sat on my own throne nor seeded Narnia with her magics without my consent."

"It can't be," said someone from the crowd—said almost everybody in the crowd, truthfully.

"You're not Rilian," Bucky heard himself say—although now he was looking, trying to see the boy he'd known in the man before him. "Rilian would be an old man by now."

"No, he wouldn't," someone said.

"He disappeared some ten years before the Witch came—and it's been ten years since then."

"He was a young lad when he went—nineteen or twenty."

"He'd be forty now, give or take."

"This one seems a bit younger than that—still, it could be, could be."

"Who is that with you?" the Knight asked. "At first, I thought it must be other Men, but now...your voices sound like Bears, like Panthers, like Badgers and Deer. It is so good to hear all your voices, for it has always been so dreadfully quiet in my other waking hours."

"I don't care who you say you are," said Ylfa, approaching the Knight from Bucky's right. Stiff-legged she walked, with her head down and all the fur of her back standing up, and her lips peeled away from her teeth. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, and her intent was clear.

Then an arrow hit the dirt, right in front of her, and she halted.

"Stay back," Bucky said, and aimed the next arrow at her heart.

"Good Wolf," said the Knight, "there were none of your kind in Narnia in my day. Yet I know my history, and I know the stories. I know how long your people have waited for the chance to come to Narnia's aid. That chance has come again. Whatever I have done while under my curse, I hope we may at least be allies, if not friends."

"Not likely," said Ylfa, and walked stiff-legged toward the side of the cave, her sister following.

"And you," said the Knight, to Bucky this time. "More and more, I feel as if I ought to know you. What is your name?"

"Bucky," said Bucky shortly, for this was the test, the last thing that could make him believe. He already almost did; he'd had some practice recognizing friends who'd suddenly turned up a whole lot bigger. He could believe that the Knight was what Rilian would have looked like, all grown up. And the way they'd fought, the way it had been like a dance, steps Bucky had felt like he'd known...

The Knight was staring at him now, and if his mouth wasn't hanging open, he still managed to give that impression. "Not...not Bucky from Brook Land?"

"Close enough," Bucky said, which was what he'd always said in response to that.

"Is it him? Is it really Prince Rilian?"

"You knew him, didn't you? You can see better than we can. What do you think?"

From the mouth of the cave flew an elderly Owl, who landed next to Rilian, and looked at him piercingly in the dark light. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, I do believe it's the lost Prince."

There was no holding the crowd back now, as everyone surged forward all at once. But there was also no need; the Narnians had loved their Prince, and grieved for him. For this minute and the next few, most of them had more or less forgotten he was also the Knight who had plagued them. They'd loved him dearly, from the time he was a boy, and many of them had wished for the day when he might return to free Narnia from the Witch's clutches.

They came forward, to touch him, to smell him, to ask him where he had been, and tell him how glad they were to see him again—and as they did, Bucky watched, and thought about the Lamb's third gift, the one he'd know when he saw it. He wanted to go to Rilian himself, but he couldn't seem to move, and so he settled for scanning the crowd to make sure no one looked like they were about to try something.

Eventually, after everyone had had a chance to greet him, Bucky thought to ask, "How long did you say you had before the curse comes back?"

And Rilian said, with a joy as sharp as it was bright, "It would have come back upon me many minutes ago if it were meant to. I was always bound to the silver chair before, and could feel its magics coursing through my veins. If I were sat in it again, I suspect the curse would come back upon me—but for now, I believe I am free."

"Good," Bucky said. "That's really good."

***

A little while later, Rilian said, "We must make a plan, and we must act on it tonight. The Witch will already know something is afoot, for my horse Coalblack will have returned riderless by now. But she is unlikely to act until the morrow—for I have been late to return before without incident, and it has been nearly a year since the last time my hour came upon me. If I can return tonight, she may not realize anything is amiss. Ignorance on her part could be a boon for our cause, and would at the very least buy time for strategy."

"You can't walk," Bucky pointed out, for by now it had become apparent that Rilian had a bad sprain, at minimum.

"I could, if I had someone to lean on. But—anyone who came with me would be lost once we reached the barrier."

"Can't be me. I'd take your head off like as anything," said a Bear who'd never taken the head of anything larger than a salmon.

"Besides that, the Witch might see you, and then where would you be?" said a Fox.

"I'll go," said Bucky. "I'm immune." _If_ what the Lamb had said was true...but although Bucky knew he should be more skeptical, he still couldn't bring himself to doubt it. Not after everything else. "She can't do anything to my head. No one can."

At this announcement, all the Animals stared.

"If that's true, why didn't you say so in the clearing?" grumbled someone.

Bucky shrugged. "Didn't think it was any of your business."

There might have followed a long debate on this matter, except that Rilian gestured for silence, and said, "Then Bucky and I will go."

"I as well," came a voice from outside the cave.

The crowd parted so that Rilian and Bucky could see the speaker, one of the few Narnians who'd remained outside rather than enter the cave. It was a Horse.

"You'll arrive there more quickly riding me," she said.

But Rilian was already shaking his head. "Good Horse, _you_ are not immune to the Witch's magic. Once you crossed the barrier, you would be a Talking Horse no more...and we cannot know whether her influence can be reversed. I cannot allow this. I will not."

"But you must," said the Horse. "Else you'll never get there before the dawn—and time is of the essence, is it not?" She shook her head. "When you vanished, many sought to find you, and were lost. Your father the King came to forbid anyone else to seek you—but not all of us obeyed. Before the Witch came, I had been in training to carry a rider into Calormen, to discover the truth of rumors from the far south. It was said you had been spied there; and the claims came from enough sources that it seemed there must be some truth to them. In the end, my rider and I left Narnia the very month the Witch came. We did not go in flight, but in search of answers and aid."

"And what did you find?" Rilian asked.

"Little enough, in the end," she answered. "Whispers that hadn't made it to the north. You were said to be in the company of your manservant at all times, a wild gloved man with the strength of twenty—but whenever we arrived where you were said to have been, you had gone already (and now it seems you must never have been in the south, no matter what we heard of you there). When there were no more whispers to follow, we returned to the north. My rider remained in Archenland...but I returned, for Narnia is my home and ever shall be."

"I see," Rilian said. A shadow passed across his face. "I should yet forbid you to come. But you are correct in your main point—we must make good time, and we will not otherwise."

So it was that saddle and bridle were found in a nearby town. Bucky put them on the Horse's back, though not without a few false starts and a lot of advice from both Rilian and the Horse herself. Then Rilian got into the saddle (which is to say, Bucky tossed him into the saddle, all three of them doing their best not to jostle Rilian's ankle).

Then they were off, Bucky walking by the Horse's head (for they had determined early on that it would be better not to try to seat two grown men on the Horse, who had not carried a rider in some years). They walked in silence until the other Narnians had disappeared behind them.

Then Rilian said, "There's time yet. Perhaps you could speak of what has passed in Narnia in my absence (if you would call it that)."

"That is a dark, difficult tale," said the Horse. Her breath was warm and loud next to Bucky's ear. "I would not dwell there in this hour. Not if I may choose otherwise."

"Of course. I ought to have realized. You may speak as you like, then. Or not, if that is what you wish."

"I sought your person for many years, Highness. Perhaps I will regale you with the tales of your southern exploits."

At this, Rilian laughed. Then and for the next few minutes, he sounded almost like the boy Bucky had known a long time ago. "It's like the old story, isn't it—Prince Cor and the Horse Bree and others. To the best of my knowledge, I have no twin...but fanciful as it may be, I would hear this tale. Tell me, what feats did I achieve in Calormen?"

What the Horse told him then was not so much a story as it was a series of rumors, framed by where the Horse and her rider had been when they'd heard each of them. It didn't take long for Bucky to figure out that the guy Rilian's supposed double was traveling with sounded way too much like Bucky himself. A super strong guy, who always wore a glove on his left hand...it was too close, and too specific.

He decided the Horse must be lying. She'd made up that whole story about looking for Rilian before because she thought he'd be more likely to accept her help if he thought she had some sort of experience doing this kind of thing. (Bucky would someday come to learn he'd been completely wrong about this...but that's another story.)

After half an hour or so, the barrier appeared, shimmering green in front of them.

The Horse didn't stop, didn't even hesitate. Her breathing did change, in the last few moments before they passed the barrier; became harsher and wilder. Bucky put his hand on her neck, not thinking to comfort her or planning to, yet it happened anyway. Beneath his hand, the Horse's neck was tense with intent.

"Most valiant of Horses," said Rilian in a low voice, just before they passed through the barrier. For a moment, the whole world was tinted green; then everything was back to normal, except for the smell, that sweet smell of something rotting.

Beneath Bucky's hand, the Horse changed. Her neck was no longer hard as stone, and her steps immediately slowed. She was no longer determined to see it through; she no longer had an opinion about their mission and destination, no longer remembered a single word of the story she'd made up for them.

"Will you lead her?" asked Rilian after a moment. His voice was thick, tears falling freely down his cheeks. "I thought I would take the reins, when the moment came—but I cannot."

"Sure," Bucky said, and did.

The Horse may not have remembered herself, but she'd spoken of her training, how she'd learned to carry a rider as if she were nothing but a dumb horse, and how that training might carry over. There must have been some truth to that part of her story, at least, for she accepted Rilian on her back and Bucky at her head easily.

The walk from the barrier's edge to the castle was longer than the walk from the cave to the barrier had been. About an hour, in the end, and they walked in silence for most of it. It wasn't exactly the best time to catch up—and besides, little of that walk was through territory as calm and quiet as Bucky's walk with the Lamb had been.

Sometimes they saw what had once been Talking Animals—a group of Moles digging a ditch, an Elk pulling a plow. Occasionally, they passed people, or creatures that looked like people, felling trees or erecting buildings.

"Earthmen," said Rilian when they passed one such group, who were all very pale in the moonlight. "We brought them here from the Underland. There are many fewer now than there were, for even bespelled they do not thrive beneath the sun. It pains me to see them nearly as much as it pains me to see the scars they leave upon the land."

For the forest inside the barrier was nothing like the one outside of it—was not, in many places, a forest at all.

"She means to build a great city, though I know not whom she intends to dwell here. Look, there is Cair Paravel."

In sight now was the great castle, and beyond it, the sea. Bucky had never been here before, but his heart leapt with something like recognition, all the same. It was because of all the stories Rilian had told him about it when they were kids, probably...but it felt like more.

The closer they got to the castle, the sweeter the air smelled, until even breathing through his mouth wasn't enough to get away from the rot.

When they were close enough to see the courtyard, the fire the Wolves had spoken of could also be seen: A huge green bonfire, crackling with promises as sweet as its smoke, and as rotten.

Standing by the fire, looking into it, was a woman, wearing a green dress. She turned to look at them, and for a moment a shadow passed across her face, gone as quickly as it had come. If you are lucky, you have never seen such a look on another person's face, but Bucky and Rilian both had: It was a look of contempt, the kind a certain kind of person saves for everyone they think is beneath them, and whom they have (or believe they have) total power over.

"Oh, my love," she said, and the shadow had been replaced by something sweeter, falser. "Your horse returned alone hours ago. I did so fear the worst!"

"My lady cannot know how deeply I regret your concern for my person," said Rilian, and there was a cruel lilt to his voice that had not been there before. "I would have slain a thousand enemies, I would have have dragged myself over a thousand miles of pain before I would have caused you any such grief. But alas, it could not be helped: A creature of some low kind dashed in front of my dear Coalblack. He spooked, and I was thrown; and my left foot twisted in the stirrup as a consequence. It can no longer bear my weight. I might have been days longer in my return, if I had not met with aid along the way."

Now the Witch's eyes turned to Bucky. As Rilian spoke, he'd been trying to find the face he remembered living behind, before: the dull, sullen look of the Soldier, the face he'd worn during so many briefings and missions.

Whatever he'd managed to drag up from beneath the surface, it must have satisfied the Witch, for her eyes glanced over him like he was nothing, then looked to Rilian again.

"This is Bucky Barnes, a mercenary from the south. Is he not fair? And goodhearted, as well—as you can see, he's allowed me the use of his horse."

"Yes. I see," said the Witch. It wasn't really clear what she saw, or what she made of it. "You are certain you feel well?"

"I know what you fear, Lady. Have I not always heeded your words about when to speak outside of your presence, and when to remove my armor? I feared the same as you do now, when I was forced to speak, and to remove my armor, so that my injury might be seen to."

"You have not broken it, I hope," said the Witch.

"I do not believe I have. Still, I cannot stand upon it—it buckles beneath me every time I try. And it has become very swollen, you see?"

"You must be in such pain," said the Witch. She went to Rilian and touched his ankle lightly with the tips of her fingers. Even that much made him hiss in pain; and the Witch smiled, in a way that was probably supposed to come off as sympathetic, but made her look smug, instead. "Be free of it now."

"I do not deserve such a boon, my lady—but my heart thanks you, all the same," said Rilian, and dismounted.

This time, there was no need for Bucky to catch him, for he stood as straight and tall without his armor as he'd stood in it when they'd fought earlier that night.

"What task would you have of me now?" he asked. "I know there was very much to do when I left."

The Witch waved her hand, as if conquering a country wasn't anything they should worry about. "It will keep until the morrow. You should rest yourself, in preparation."

"Yes, lady. First, though, I'll see to the horse." So saying, Rilian slapped the Horse's side, like she were any other dumb horse.

"What of your...friend?"

Rilian smiled; there was something wrong in it, like the tone of his voice, something bitter in the sweet that surrounded them. "As I said, he is fair...and the nights in this land can be so cold, and dark. Colder and darker than they were beneath the surface, it sometimes seems."

"Very well," and this time the Witch sounded colder than Rilian. "But be certain you _do_ sleep, for we have much to do in the morning."

"Of course, my lady."

Rilian bowed, and the Witch turned away. Then they went to the stable, not looking to see if the Witch was still watching them.

"What was that about?" Bucky asked, once they'd taken off the Horse's saddle and bridle, and given her food and water, and after Rilian had whispered a few more apologies into her ear.

"Not here," said Rilian. "You never know who may be listening, in this place. We'll speak in my chambers, once we're behind thick stone walls."

***

When they were there, Bucky repeated the question.

"Even while I was under my curse, there were some few difficulties between myself and the Witch," said Rilian. "She'd promised we would wed when we took Cair Paravel. Once we had so done, she said we would wed when my hour ceased to come upon me. As the Knight, I worshiped her, but we very nearly argued over this matter on some few occasions. I chafed over this, though I suspect her magic prevented me from saying anything outright."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Ah, well," said Rilian, turning a little red, and looking away. "She believes I mean to ravish you—not because I wish to have you, so much as because she won't have me."

Suddenly, Bucky got it. "Oh."

Still looking away, Rilian said, "We shall sleep here a few hours, to regain our strength for the morrow. Then, when the house is quiet—for it is always quieter in the daylight hours then it is in the night—we shall go down to the armory. Whatever happens, I would wear my father's armor in the coming battle—and you should have a better sword."

"All right." Bucky looked around, but where Rilian's chambers in Archenland had contained several sofas large and comfortable enough for him to sleep on, his room here had a bed, a desk, a chair, a fireplace, and not much else.

"...Would it trouble you greatly if we were to share the bed?" Rilian asked.

"No."

"Then that is what we shall do. Do not trouble yourself; I will not lay one finger on your person," said Rilian, trying to make a joke out of it and not quite succeeding. "Though I may seize the blanket for myself if I sleep too deeply."

"Sounds good to me."

When they were in the bed, side-by-side in the dark, Rilian said, "Bucky from Brook Land. I never thought to see you again. We tarried in Archenland for nearly a fortnight after you vanished, you know; I was certain you must have been taken by some enemy, but no ransom ever came."

"I found a door back," Bucky said. "I meant to come get you, to show you. It closed before I could."

"Ah. Yes, that is what my father thought; what he eventually convinced me of, as well. Well, my heart is glad you're here now...yet sorrowful, as well. It would never have been my wish for you to see me as the Knight, or for you to know what my foolishness has brought upon Narnia."

"I don't think it's your fault," said Bucky.

"Perhaps not, but it was still my doing. I will tell you the tale, if you wish to hear it...though you may think less of me, after."

"Nah."

"Very well." And so Rilian told Bucky what had happened to his mother, and about the serpent he'd searched for...and the lady in green he'd found, instead. How he hadn't made the connection between the two until much later, when the Witch had herself turned into a snake. "I could swear to you that we hacked off its head, then and there—but although I remember that much so clearly, whatever happened afterward has been lost to me. I know not how the Witch survived such a blow, nor what became of the three brave friends who freed me so briefly."

"I'm sorry," Bucky said.

"As am I. I suppose it's a fantastic tale...the sort you would have disbelieved, when we were boys."

"I don't scoff at much anymore," said Bucky. "Wait'll you hear what's been going on with me."

Then he spent the better part of an hour telling Rilian everything—the War, the train, the Soldier, the chair, all of it. Trying to live his life for the last couple of years, only to find out he wasn't going to be allowed to do that, either. How he'd agreed to be frozen again, until he could be sure he'd be safe going forward. How, before that could happen, he'd found the door, and the Wood, and the Lamb, and Rilian.

Rilian was still as good as listening as he was at talking; he only interrupted a few times, mostly to ask about words like "helicarrier" and "rifle." It was all so familiar, like Bucky's bones had always remembered him, even if his mind hadn't until this week. If it hadn't been for what they were talking about, it could have been any of the hundred nights they'd stayed up too late talking during that long-ago summer.

When Bucky had finished, Rilian said, "Our stories are so alike."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Your own tale...it gives me hope for the end of mine."

"You might want to rethink that one. Mine's not even over yet."

"A fair point," Rilian said. He was quiet for a moment, then said, "...Did you ever kiss me in a tower at night? Or was that only another dream?"

"Yeah. We were halfway down the stairs."

"It's as I recall, then. I can remember so clearly how it was between us...too clearly, I think."

"Why's that?"

"The more I contemplate it, the more I wish to kiss you once again. Only I said I wouldn't, and a vow made in jest is still a vow."

"I just want you to know that joke fell really flat for me," said Bucky, and leaned toward Rilian in the bed and broke his vow for him.

Their first kiss had been brief, and innocent. This one was longer, and anything but—for neither of them was innocent anymore, no matter what definition you're going with. The first kiss led to a second, and a third, and soon they had tossed the blanket aside, and were pressed up against each other, from chest to hip, with Rilian's no longer injured leg thrown over Bucky's hip. With Rilian kissing his jaw, Bucky pulled Rilian's shirt out of his trousers, then started to untie them at the front.

Rilian grabbed Bucky's hands to stop him, then moved away in the bed, trying to catch his breath. "I must apologize," he said. "I did not know I would respond so strongly to your touch, or that it would take so little for me to become unfit to be seen."

"It's not a problem," Bucky said, who was also unfit to be seen, assuming Rilian was talking about having a hard-on.

"I should not have asked you to...I should not have begun this. I can't—I should not simply lie here and take my pleasure with you, as if my fellow Narnians were not even now in bondage to the Witch."

"I don't think that's what's happening," Bucky said. But he didn't move toward Rilian, just let him think about it.

"What, then?"

"I don't know," Bucky said. "But when I was in my place—you know, the apartment I had—it would've been nice not to be alone."

"I would not have wished you to be," Rilian said. "All creatures are meant to stand together, to hold one another up...do you really suppose it would be all right? If we took our strength from each other in this bed?"

"Yeah, I do," Bucky said, and wasn't at all prepared for it when Rilian surged toward him again, and kissed him desperately.

This time, when Bucky started untying his trousers, Rilian didn't try to stop him. When Bucky's right hand slid up his stomach, he groaned and said, "It's been so long since I've been... _ohhh_..." (Bucky had just reached beneath the loose waistband of his trousers) "...since I've been touched. Honestly touched, you know..."

"Uh-huh," Bucky said.

"They forced me into the Chair bodily at times, you know, and my La—the Wi—She touched me other times, but it was...it's different, when you're ensorcelled. It's nothing like this...no, no need to stop, I'm only... _ahhh_..." (Bucky had taken him at his word, and wrapped his hand around what he'd found a little ways down) "...I'm explaining what I mean, when I say I haven't been..."

Now Rilian groaned again, long and deep, for Bucky had pulled his trousers and underwear down his thighs in one smooth motion, then slid down the mattress and taken Rilian into his mouth.

"...haven't been touched. It hasn't been anything like this. There hasn't been anyone...not for so many years. And now it's... _ah_ , your mouth is so...now it's you, and I never dreamed it would..."

Rilian might have still been trying to talk. It was hard to tell from that point, between his moans and harsh breathing and other cries, one of his hands in Bucky's hair and the other clutching the shoulder of his shirt. It was only another minute, maybe a minute and a half before Rilian came, jerking in Bucky's mouth as Bucky swallowed around him. It was a bitter taste, and a hundred times better than the sweetness out in the courtyard.

"Come here and kiss me again," Rilian said.

Bucky did, and kept kissing him as Rilian's hand slipped inside of his jeans and wrapped around him.

"I haven't been touched either," he said, and what he meant was that he hadn't, at all, since well before he became the Soldier. He'd barely even touched himself. He hadn't wanted to. He hadn't really wanted too much of anything until he walked through a couple doors a couple days ago.

A couple times, Rilian made a motion as if to do for Bucky what Bucky had done for him—but each time, Bucky caught his face in his hands, and kept him there, so they could keep kissing, even as Rilian's hand sped up, even as Bucky got closer and closer. They were still kissing when he came, three sharp jerks over Rilian's fingers and spilling onto his own stomach as well.

"I thought you were dead," Bucky said, a little while later. "It's been so much longer in my world than it has here—I thought for sure you had to be dead."

"I'm here," said Rilian. "It must be by some impossible miracle that you are as well."

"That's pretty much the way I feel about it, too."

***

Eventually, they both got a little sleep. Just a couple hours, but they woke up more refreshed than they would have been if they hadn't gotten any.

They didn't meet anyone on the way down to the armory, just as they hadn't met anyone on the way to Rilian's room. Bucky hadn't heard anyone, either time, and his ears were good enough that he would have if someone was following them or trying to intercept them. Everyone who'd used to live here before the Witch came was dead, probably, and she didn't seem to have a whole lot of friends.

The armory door creaked loudly when they opened it. There was a thick layer of dust on everything inside.

"Here is my father's armor," said Rilian, after they'd stepped in with the lamp he'd brought from his room and the thick oak door had closed behind them. "And here King Peter's sword. And here..."

Everything there seemed to have a story, whether it had belonged to a King or Queen from a thousand years back, or the best Dwarfen blacksmith from a generation or two ago. Bucky wasn't really listening all that closely. A sword was a sword, a bow was a bow, you used them all for the same thing. What mattered was finding one of each that was better than what he had; that, and helping Rilian into his father's armor, which he wanted to try one as soon as he was done taking an inventory. It turned out to fit perfectly, like it had been made for him.

"I have begun to question our strategy," Rilian said, once he'd been standing around in that armor for a few minutes.

"We have one of those?" Bucky asked.

"I thought perhaps we would continue to fool the Witch for long enough to uncover her plans, and mayhaps her weakness, whatever it may be; but her intentions are writ clear enough in her every deed...and the longer we tarry, the greater chance she will learn what we are about, or even that we will fall prey to her magics once more. (Myself especially—I had not realized how already they were pulling on me; not until these last few minutes, for it seems easier to breathe down here.) Let us meet her openly, instead. Let us route her, or slay her, whichever it should come to; for every minute is another Narnian enslaved, another tree felled, another moment the darkness lingers. Let us bring out the light, here and now, for there will never be a better day."

"Sounds good to me," said Bucky.

They looked around a little more, and found Bucky a much better sword and crossbow. Rilian tried to talk him into a shield or some armor of his own, but Bucky turned him down. His left arm was the only shield he'd ever need, and he didn't have the time to figure out how to move in chainmail. But he did snatch up a few knives to hide in various places, and when Rilian handed him a little glass bottle of something, he pocketed that, too.

A few minutes later, on their way out of the armory, Bucky said, "That was a great speech. It's too bad there wasn't a whole army here to listen to it."

***

They looked for the Witch in the courtyard and corridors, and found no sign of her.

"We'll find her in the throne room, then," Rilian said. There was certainty and dread in his voice.

"What's so bad about the throne room?"

"It is where the silver chair sits," said Rilian. It was all he needed to say.

Even if he hadn't mentioned it, it turned out Bucky would have known that chair the second he saw it, when they walked into that room and saw two thrones on the raised platform. One was golden, with ornate carvings up and down it, and would probably have been beautiful if someone other than the Witch had been sitting in it. The other was silver, and much plainer, and gave off such a nasty feel that Bucky thought he would have known what it was for even if no one had ever mentioned anything about it.

As the Witch stood, the blank-faced guards standing behind her stepped forward, and Rilian gasped in something like pain.

Before Bucky could ask, the Witch said, "Wherever have you been, my love? You were missed at breakfast. And what is that you're wearing? What a silly thing it seems!"

"This is no game of dress-up, lady," said Rilian, sounding less sure of himself than he had down in the armory (for there is no easy way to stand up to someone who has had you under an enchantment for any length of time; and the longer it has gone on, the more difficult it becomes). "This is my father's armor, which I wear to face mine enemy—perhaps the greatest enemy Narnia has ever known."

"Enemy? Why, what enemy could you speak of? We defeated our enemies years ago; all who are here now are our friends and allies."

"We have been in this place before, though it was years ago and many leagues from here," said Rilian. "I will not seek to justify myself before you this time. You know my enemy as well as I do, whatever you pretend; now we must do battle, or else you must leave this land forever. Choose."

The Witch smiled then; a sweet, pitying smile. "You are unwell. I saw it in the courtyard last night. The color has gone from your face, the light faded from your eyes. Your curse had come upon you again, try as you might to hide it (for is that not its nature, to resist recognition?)." The Witch's voice was dripping with concern, fake and sweet, but it became harder and colder at her next words: "Take him. I'll deal with the other one."

Then she curled one of her hands into a fist, and made a motion as it to _wrench_ something within it—and Rilian fell to the floor with a cry. (For the Witch had not healed his ankle the night before, but only masked the pain, until she could determine why her Knight should have felt any pain at all; and now she'd brought it back tenfold. If Rilian's ankle hadn't been broken before, it was now, and in a number of places, so that there was no chance of him standing to fight.)

Bucky didn't know all this, but he heard Rilian's scream, and saw him fall. He stepped between Rilian and the Witch's three guards as they approached, and drew his sword. "Stay back," he said.

"Don't harm them," Rilian said. "These are the ones I told you of—the friends who cut me out of my chair before. Look to the Witch, instead."

"Tell them to back off," Bucky said to the Witch.

"I'm afraid I cannot," said the Witch. "He is too ill, though I can see he's told you otherwise."

Bucky meant to rush her, but something stopped him. The lilt of her voice, the sweet poison of her tone, the way she looked in her gown, and all of it was directed at him now. It all hit something deep inside him, in a place he'd thought couldn't be touched anymore. It wrapped around him and he couldn't move, or do anything to defend himself. For the first minute or two, all he knew was the shock of it, because he'd been told she couldn't, that no one could, that he was free.

The Witch was saying something else now, and by the time the part of Bucky that knew what was happening had tuned back in, she must have been talking for a while. And he was listening, just listening, the part of him that had been (that _was_ ) the Soldier, waiting for his orders. Was listening as he sheathed his sword again. Was listening as the guards grabbed Rilian and dragged him up the stairs to the silver chair. Was listening as the Witch said, "—and when you arrive there, you'll kill everyone you find—"

Someone had told him he'd never have to do this again. That was what the part of Bucky that was still him was thinking. It was all he could think. He'd never have come here if he'd known it was a lie.

Who had told him that?

He couldn't remember.

There had been a

a person

and he had said

...what had he said?

For a moment, there was nothing. Then it came back to him, for just a moment, and it was just a flash—

_The Lamb's voice, low and bright and clear as the green light all around them. "You will never again be helpless in another's thrall," he said. "Not in any world, not by any means."_

But he'd been lying, what was left of Bucky knew now that he'd _lied_ —

except

what had he said?

never again

never again be

never again be _helpless_ —

It had never been like this before, had it? He'd never been awake, never been aware of himself when he was the Soldier. He'd never had any room for anything but his mission, the things he had to do to carry it out. He'd only ever come back to himself slowly, after, the pieces chipping away until they noticed and wiped him again, or until he ran.

Now he grabbed hold with both hands, and forced his way back in. Not one piece at a time, this time, but all at once. The way he'd have wanted to so many other times if he'd been able to want anything, the way he _had to_ now if he was going to be able to stop any of it.

Bucky came back to himself, and saw what was happening.

Rilian was in the chair now, and the guards were working to tie him to it, though it wasn't going so well—so far they'd gotten his right arm down, but the rest of him was still lashing out at them, not making it easy.

Right in front of Bucky stood the Witch. Her hand was on his arm, the lightest of touches, and the most skin-crawling. She was still telling him, in detail, how she wanted him to kill his allies—the ones who'd told him their stories, who'd worked with him to trap the Knight and then to send Rilian and him back here. The ones who were counting on them, and who had lost so much already.

"Shut up," Bucky said, and drew his sword again.

The Witch stepped back, an ugly snarl now on her face, and began to change. From woman-form to serpent-form, almost too fast for his eyes to follow.

She struck at him, with fangs that dripped the sweetest poison.

Bucky stepped out of the way, then lashed out at her in turn.

"Its head!" Rilian called from the dais, a moment's distraction that cost his other arm its freedom. "You must cut off its head!"

It was a very short fight, in the end—not a dance like the one he and Rilian had danced when Rilian was the Knight. It had to be short, for all the serpent had to do was strike Bucky cleanly once. The longer the fight went on, the more likely that would be.

The serpent struck at him, twice, a third time. The fourth time, Bucky saw it coming, and stepped out of the way again, and swung his sword—

And it bit deeply into the serpent's neck. Its body began to thrash, and Bucky swung his sword again.

The serpent's head fell to the floor.

Bucky stepped over its still-thrashing body, and went up the stairs to the dais, sword still drawn. Friends of Rilian's or not, he'd go through them if he had to—but by the time he was there, the guards were already undoing Rilian's bonds.

"Get back," Bucky said, still unsure.

"Not likely," said one of the two men, the shorter one.

"Scrubb, don't," said the third guard, who was a woman.

"I daresay it doesn't matter," mused the taller man (who didn't really look human at all, now that Bucky had a better look at him). "He's like to run us through no matter what we do."

"It's all right," said Rilian, through gritted teeth. His face was as pale and beaded with sweat as it had been in the cave the day before. "All who are here are friends of mine, and thus friends of each other. Now put away that sword and help me out of this chair."

Bucky sheathed his sword, and helped Rilian stand on his one good foot. With the others' help, they half-carried Rilian a few feet to the throne, then sat him in it.

Bucky bent down, so that he could look at Rilian's lower leg. It was so swollen it puffed out of the top of his boot. "Might have to cut your boot off," he said, pulling out a knife.

"Do you still have the cordial?" Rilian asked.

"The what?"

"I gave it to you in the armory."

"Oh." Bucky reached for the little vial Rilian had given him. It was still there. "Yeah. Why?"

"A drop on my lips should do it," Rilian said. "No more than that, I beg you...for it is precious, and worth far more than its weight in gold."

Bucky did what he asked. The moment a drop from the vial touched Rilian's lips, his color started to come back, and the puffy skin above his boot receded.

Rilian stood, and drew his sword. He turned toward the silver chair and said, "This time will be the last. It is ended for ever."

He advanced upon the silver chair, and hacked it to pieces. It hissed and sizzled, until all that was left of it were blackened shards of silver. When Rilian was finished, he sheathed his sword again, and then the other three went to him, and they all shook hands, and threw their arms around each other, and said how good it was for the enchantment to be over now.

It should have been a good moment, a great moment. And maybe Bucky should have gone to Rilian with the others, and been a part of it. But instead he stood there, trying to think about what he was missing. There had to be something. Something wasn't right, though not one of the other four seemed to realize it. Bucky's breath was coming a little faster now, and the hairs on his arm were standing up. There was something Rilian had said before—

_Rilian, not dead after all and not an old man, lying beside Bucky as they told each other their stories. "I could swear to you that we hacked off its head, then and there...I know not how the Witch survived such a blow..."_

Later, Bucky would think he knew before he even turned around; that there could only ever have been one explanation.

He turned, just in time to see the serpent flying at him again. It was coming at him fast—too fast for him to get at his sword, or any of his other knives. It was too fast for him to do anything but throw his arm up in front of his face.

The serpent hit him, and bit down, releasing venom the Witch had spent centuries creating. It was enough fell a Lamb, enough to kill a Lion. It was more than enough to drop Bucky dead in his tracks—

 _If_ it had been his other arm.

Triumphant, the serpent withdrew—but Bucky grabbed it by the throat, and drew his sword. It wasn't a great angle, and it took the serpent only a moment to realize it had failed. It began to thrash in his grasp, not trying to get away, but to get to his face or neck.

"I could use a little help here," he said, but the others were already there, swords drawn. They slashed and chopped at the serpent's head, doing their best not to hit Bucky with their blades.

After a minute, the serpent's thrashing began to slow. A minute after that, it had slowed a little more. A minute after that, Bucky threw it onto the floor, and Rilian finished the job of taking its second head off.

"Now I understand how it must have been before," said Rilian. "There is no more question in my mind as to how and why we failed."

"Do you think it'll grow a third head?" asked Jill (for everyone had been introduced to Bucky after Rilian's leg was healed).

"And a fourth and a fifth, most like," said Puddleglum.

"It'll keep going as long as we let it," said Bucky. "We have to destroy its whole body."

"I've got an idea," said Eustace.

It turned out to be a good one.

***

In the courtyard, the green fire still burned, though it was already duller and smelled less sweet than it had before. Into the courtyard trudged three men and a woman, each carrying one loop of an enormous serpent. They threw it into the fire, and for a moment feared it might smother—but then the flames leapt up, engulfing the serpent's body in its entirety.

Bucky followed the others, carrying the serpent's two heads. These he threw in on top of the rest.

From the fire came a scream, full of rage and pain and possibly even fear—enough to make all of them take a step back, and to draw their swords again.

The serpent's body began to thrash again, even as it burned...but it burned impossibly quickly. No more than five minutes after they'd thrown it into the fire, all that was left was a circle of black ash within a deep fire pit, and the smell of burning meat. It was a terrible smell, but still a thousand times better than the green fire's sweetness; and it faded away quickly in the open air.

"It is done now," said Rilian, and this time his words rang true—and he and his three friends wept to be reunited (though they had seen each other near every day since the Witch had first overcome them, without ever knowing it).

After a while, there were sounds from beyond the courtyard: cries of joy or fear, and the sounds of running feet and rushing wings.

A few minutes after the first sounds were heard, two gray shadows slunk into the courtyard.

Eustace reached for his sword, but Rilian stopped him. "These are friends, as well," he said (though by the look on Ylfa's face, that was still up for debate). "Tell us, O Wolves: What lies beyond this courtyard? The Witch is dead, and by your presence I know some of her magic must be gone as well; but have your eyes seen any evidence that all is not as it should be?"

Before the Wolves could speak, a whinny came from the direction of the stable, followed by a clattering of hooves upon cobblestone. Into the courtyard came the Horse who had carried Rilian beyond the barrier. Her eyes were no longer dull, and the answer to Rilian's question was clear in their new and welcome intelligence.

"We've done it! We've done it! Narnia is saved!" she said.

And that was pretty much that, when it came to the Witch, at least.

***

Over the next few hours, the Narnians gathered out in the courtyard, much as they had in the clearing and in the cave. There was more joy this time, but also more sorrow; everything was much closer to the surface now that it was all over. Those who had been under the Witch's spell were evident by their confusion and their shame; some tried to slink away, only to be blocked by their families or fellows. Those who had not been under the Witch's spell sought those who had, and cried out in joy and grief when they were found.

Early on, Rilian tried to step toward the crowd. Bucky caught him by the elbow. "I don't know if you want to do that."

"They're my subjects. Why shouldn't I walk among them?"

"Think about it for a second," Bucky said. He hated to do it, because the second Rilian remembered the things he'd done as the Knight, he looked grayer, and tired.

"I will walk among them later," said Rilian. "After I've had a chance to speak before them."

For that, they were waiting for more of the Narnians to get here. Many had seen the barrier dissolve, and had come quickly; others were farther out, and only just learning the news.

Bucky had slung his crossbow over his shoulder in a way that ensured he could have it out in a moment; and he made sure, as well, that it wouldn't get in the way of his sword, if he needed to draw it again. If they ended up having to fight their way out, he'd fight. If they had to run, he'd send Rilian first and block the doorway with the others.

He didn't mention any of this, but Rilian didn't miss it, either. "Your caution is unnecessary, my friend. There will be no more blood shed here today."

Bucky wasn't so sure about that, but he moved his hand an inch or two, so it wouldn't look like he was ready to shoot the first Animal that decided to take out what the Knight had done on Rilian.

For his part, Rilian remained where he was, watching the crowd until they had begun to look for him. The sounds of greetings and other talk now gave way to another, cooler murmur. Bucky's hand inched back toward his crossbow.

"My fellow Narnians," Rilian said, once they'd all turned to him, and were mostly quiet, and waiting. "It is a day of celebration, for the Witch's spell has been broken, and we have all been freed."

"That's such a strong word," called someone from the crowd. "'We.' How are we to know you weren't in on it all this time?"

The murmur grew, something that sounded too much like agreement for Bucky's comfort.

"And now you'll expect to be King over us, no doubt—but who would follow such a King as you? One who's slaughtered us for years now? The nightmares my children have had, let me tell you! And now I'm supposed to go home and tell them we're going to be ruled over by one and the same?"

"I'm more regretful of my actions as the Knight than I could ever express," said Rilian—but it didn't stop the murmur. Probably nothing he could have said would have.

"You need to stop," Bucky said, loudly. He didn't do speeches, but someone who wasn't Rilian needed to say something, and when he reached for the words, they were there, ready to spill out as soon as he let them. "How many of you were under her spell, too? Or have friends or family who were? How many of you cut down trees for her? Trees are people here, too, last time I checked. So that's murder. How many of you went out past the barrier and killed and ate other Talking Animals because you didn't know better? I'm betting it was a lot of you."

"It's not the same thing," called out someone else.

"It is, though," Bucky said. "If you did any of that, it's exactly the same thing. You couldn't help it. Neither could he. You couldn't fight it. Neither could he. It's exactly the same thing."

People seemed to think about this, or at least seemed to be talking about it. Some scoffed, but the general tone was more thoughtful than it had been before—or at least less like a mob about to happen.

Then Due—not Ylfa—spoke from the sidelines. "That is as may be—but none of these others have done the same harm the Knight did. Now, I have been taught and I agree that Narnia is always better when a Son of Adam rules over it—"

("Can't see how!" someone called out, only to be quickly shushed by his fellows.)

"—but I see _two_ sons of Adam before me. One has hidden his face from us for years upon years, ridden out into Narnia as if to war. The other came to us less than a week ago, bearing a Lion on his shoulder, and already we are freed. If we are to have a King, then I say we also have a choice, unless Aslan himself should come to tell us otherwise."

At this, there wasn't anyone who didn't glance around. But the closest thing to a Lion among those present were a Panther and several Jaguars; and there wasn't anyone there who even slightly resembled a Lamb.

Rilian was gazing upon Bucky, an anguished look on his face. Then he turned his eyes to the crowd. "If you will not have me as your King, I will not contest the choosing of another. I have sat beside the throne wrongly for too long now to desire to take it by force. What say you, Bucky Barnes?"

As soon as he'd figured out what Due was getting at, Bucky had let his face go blank. He'd gotten good at that, over the years. When he was the Soldier, it had been a good way to keep from getting wiped quite as soon, to resist when he hadn't even known he was resisting. Now, he chose to do it so that Rilian wouldn't see his revulsion and think it was for him.

He could feel the mood changing in the crowd again. He looked out at them, and he said, "You're looking for someone perfect to lead you. For someone who's never done anything wrong to bow to. Well, that's not me."

He turned to Rilian.

"You've been a prisoner for a long time," he said, loudly enough for the people in the back. "The Witch took your name and your face. She took your past and your memories. Well, I'm not going to take anything from you. Not one damned thing."

So saying, Bucky knelt, and drew his sword again from his sheath. He offered it to Rilian, the flat of the blade balanced upon his palms.

Everything was quiet, not even a whisper from the crowd this time.

Then Rilian, openly weeping, took the sword by the hilt, and touched Bucky's shoulders lightly with the tip. "Rise, Sir Bucky." (It would take Bucky a few minutes to realize he'd just been knighted. He'd spend the rest of his life wondering how the hell that had happened.) "All of Narnia thanks you for the service you have shown us." Then he turned to the crowd, and said, "All who were under the Witch's spell are now pardoned. No vengeance will be taken, for your actions were of the Witch, and she is gone. As to the matter of my rule—"

"And who is to pardon you, o would-be King?" Ylfa demanded.

"I shall," said another voice, wild and deep and golden. The crowd parted to allow its owner to walk to the front. For a moment, it seemed to Bucky to be a Lamb—but then he saw it was a Lion, huge and tawny.

"Aslan," Rilian said, and now he was the one who knelt, while the Talking Animals mostly bowed.

Aslan said, "You may rise.

"King Rilian of Narnia, once the Lost Prince of Narnia—you are now pardoned of all you did while under the Witch's spell." Then he turned his gaze on Bucky. "And you, Bucky Barnes...I cannot pardon you here for that which occurred in your world—but someday you will return, and I will pardon you then.

"If any other would protest King Rilian's rule, do so now."

Where Due had bowed her head, seeming to accept Aslan's judgment, Ylfa had gone into a pacing motion in front of the crowd. Stiff-legged, the fur on her back raised, she approached the Lion."I do."

Aslan's solemn expression turned to something almost like a smile."Then I will speak to you first, O Wolf-daughter; and to your sister as well. Much of what I will say to you, you must convey to other Wolves; but some of it is for you alone, and may be kept or shared as you will. Now, come here. Walk with me."

So the Wolves walked with Aslan, Ylfa on his right and Due on his left, out of the courtyard and up the road. It was a strange thing to watch, for the Lion was a calm presence in the middle of Ylfa's posturing and Due's almost cringing subservience; but by the time they turned back around, both Wolves seemed to be much subdued, and were gazing upon the Lion's face with all the adoration that had been burned out of Due long ago, and might never have existed for Ylfa.

While they were gone, no one spoke, everyone in the crowd merely watching them, with more than a little awe and fear. Later, Bucky would learn that Aslan had said more or less this:

"The curse upon Wolves, which was laid upon you by your own kind after the days of Jadis, is now lifted. Wolves are once more charged with its protection, as they were in the days of old. You shall be scouts, to see Narnia's enemies before they come; you shall be guards, to watch over your King from inside his court, and guide him if ever he should be tempted wrongly.

"You, Due: Where there was before a great danger, that you and your kind should be wiped out not from Narnia but from this world, now it has been reversed. You will multiply and become many; the families you will have will remind you of what had been lost, and will be even more dearly loved in return.

"And you, Ylfa: You will be charged with questioning. Never have you failed to show your displeasure, no matter to whom you speak it, heedless of any danger to yourself in the speaking; if you should learn to hone your temper, you will be one of Narnia's dearest friends and protectors."

When they returned, Aslan looked to Eustace, Jill, and Puddleglum, who all seemed fairly miserable at the attention.

"I'm sorry," Jill said. "We failed you completely. We got so close, but in the end..."

"Do not fret, daughter of Eve; the task has been completed, and all who were called to it are alive and free," said Aslan.

Then Jill and Eustace, too, walked with Aslan, and unlike the Wolves, they returned to their own land instead of to the courtyard.

Before they went, Eustace turned to Bucky and said, "Have we met, in our world?"

He sounded as if he didn't expect Bucky to say yes, but still managed to look disappointed when Bucky said, "I don't think so."

"I could swear I've seen you before," Eustace said. "If your hair were different, or if you were dressed differently, I swear I'd know where."

"He fought in the same war your uncle did. That is the only clue you shall require," said the Lion solemnly, though his eyes seemed to hold laughter, like a secret he and Bucky shared. "And now, it is time."

Of course, later on, Eustace found the trading cards his cousin Susan had brought back from America several years before. It would become a great story between all of the Friends of Narnia in our world, how he and Jill had gone to Narnia and there met Captain America's greatest, lost friend. But for now, he merely wondered, then forgot that he had wondered as he and Jill and Puddleglum walked with Aslan, and as he and Jill were sent back to their world, the years dropping from them so that they were a boy and a girl again, and felt as if they hadn't lost as much as they might have, after all.

***

Aslan came back again, and this time he said, "Bucky Barnes."

"I can't," Bucky said, still worried about the crowd, and what they might try. It had become apparent that not everybody in the crowd disagreed with Rilian becoming the King—in particular, those who had been in the cave and seen him change for themselves were fine with it—but a few of them were still muttering about it loudly whenever Aslan had his face turned away.

But then two gray shadows came again, Ylfa on Rilian's left side, and Due on the right, and whatever reservations they might have had, Bucky was suddenly certain they would die in Rilian's defense, just as quickly and surely as they would once have torn out the Knight throat.

So he walked with Aslan, and they were both silent, neither of them speaking until they'd already gone as far as he had with any of the others.

"How did you find your gift?" Aslan asked at last.

"Good," Bucky said. "I won't go back."

No one could say such a thing to this Lion without their voice trembling; most could not have managed it at all. But if Bucky had learned one thing here, it was to grab on to what he wanted, and nevermind anything else.

Aslan seemed to cough, a strange, thoughtful sound. "For the service you have done for my people, and the blow you took for me, you may stay in Narnia until you wish otherwise. Someday, you will and must go back—but until then, there will always be another door."

"Sounds good to me."

When they got back to the courtyard, Aslan walked with Rilian, and even Bucky would never know exactly what he said to him about his years with the Witch in Narnia, and his years with her before that. (He would, however, learn the answer to the darkest question of Rilian's heart: What had really happened to Rilian's father, King Caspian, who had not died by Rilian's sword at Cair Paravel, but had breathed his last at sea, instead.) They spoke for a long, long time, as every true King of Narnia must eventually speak with that Lion. When they returned, they were both solemn, and both of them weeping; for in Narnia that is no weakness, for Lion or King.

Then Aslan walked among the the rest of his people, as he had walked among them at the beginning of the world and so many times since. They had so many questions for him: Why this had been allowed to happen, and what had taken him so long, and would things really be all right now?

And to this last, he said, until the last person who needed to ask had asked, "Yes. Things will be all right—for a time at least."

***

There was a lot to do, after that.

Rilian stayed in the courtyard for the rest of that day and long into the night, speaking with each Narnian who wished an audience with him—which was just about everybody who'd come to Cair Paravel in the first place. After night had fallen, a new fire was lit in the courtyard, merry and orange.

Eventually, everyone who'd wanted to talk to Rilian personally had had their chance.

"What now?" Bucky asked.

"Now, we must sleep—for tomorrow, there is yet more work to be done. I must lead a party to find the Earthmen, and escort them back to the break in the earth from whence they came (save any who wish to stay, of course, but I can't imagine they will). Then I must lead another, to see the damage that has been done to the land, and plan how best to repair it. I have sent a Stag and a Raven to Archenland already, so good King Lorn (assuming he still lives) will know Narnia is no longer held by an enemy. I must visit there soon, to prove it is as I have said. I suppose I ought to sail to the Lone Islands, as my father did, for similar reasons. Above all, I must appoint a council, to aid and advise me. You may choose a different room tonight, if you wish."

The subject change took Bucky a second. "Nah. I'm fine with sharing."

"I as well," said Rilian.

***

A few months later, on the day before he and Rilian were to leave for Archenland, Bucky went around a corner and nearly ran into a slightly open door.

By now, he knew Cair Paravel up, down, and sideways—well enough to know no door belonged in the middle of that hallway. All it took was the slightest touch of his fingertips for it to swing open, revealing the Wood. It looked the same as it had before; the other door was even still there. Through it, Bucky could see the hallway in Wakanda where this had all started.

"I still have things I need to do here," said Bucky, for he'd taken on as much of Rilian's load as he could. "And I won't leave him."

The door swung mostly closed again, as if to say that was all right.

Bucky looked at it for a minute, then pulled the doorknob toward him until the door latched shut. He turned and walked away. When he looked back, the door had disappeared again.

When he told Rilian what had happened, Rilian looked tense at first; then, when Bucky told him about closing the door, he seemed to relax.

"I would that such a door would appear when I am with you," he said. "What an adventure that would be, to see your world for myself!"

"We've had enough adventures," said Bucky, and while he certainly believed it, it wouldn't be long before he discovered they weren't done having them. Not by a long shot.

Bucky did, of course, walk through another door eventually. By then, Narnia was prosperous and at peace, and had been for some years. He and Rilian had been to Archenland and the Lone Islands a few times each, and to Calormen twice (once two years after Rilian was crowned, and once around the time the Witch had come...which always made Bucky's head spin when he thought about it); and everywhere they went, something always seemed to happen. Bucky got used to covering Rilian with his crossbow, and to standing back-to-back or shoulder-to-shoulder with him in a fight.

By then, he and Rilian had gone everywhere together for years upon years; and so, of course, the next time Bucky went through the door back to his own world, Rilian came with him, just like he'd wanted.

As for what they found and what they did while they were there...

That, like the rest, is another story.


End file.
